


Epilogue

by TruebornAlpha



Series: Spy vs Spy [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Assassin Stiles Stilinski, Assassins & Hitmen, Established Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, Spies & Secret Agents, Spy Scott McCall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TruebornAlpha/pseuds/TruebornAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Epilogue for that Sciles Spy AU!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epilogue

The air was thick and oppressive, the humidity pressing down like a weight. The standing fan in the corner sluggishly tried to cool the little hotel room, but it was all in vain. Gauzy white curtains caught the faint breeze from the busy street below, fluttering briefly before it died. The sound of traffic and loud voices chattering in Spanish spilled through the open window as the city roused itself before the true heat of the day brought everything to a standstill.

Sweat clung to Scott’s skin with a golden glow, pooling down the small of his back as he pressed Stiles into the damp sheets. He dragged in a heavy breath, already drowning as he lost himself in his partner’s swollen mouth that chased his own with quiet, eager sounds.

He was slow and methodical as he sat back on Stiles’s hips and stretched, the new scars that crisscrossed his abdomen bulling tight against hard muscle. It was an invitation and a trap, Stiles falling gladly into it as he traced long fingers down the planes of Scott’s body. Stiles leaned forward to press his mouth against the flawed skin with wet opened mouthed kisses across his collarbones and sucking faint bruises to mark him.

Scott hummed appreciatively, throwing his head back to give his partner better access and slowly rocked his hips, demanding more without a word.

Stiles would give everything he had and so much more. He steadied Scott’s waist before sliding lower to cup his ass, spreading his cheeks to show off how his cock split Scott apart. He felt Scott gasp beneath his lips, felt him tremble against him before he threw his arms around Stiles’s shoulders, begging for comfort as he rode him harder, faster.

“Scotty, you feel so good,” Stiles slurred, licking the sweat off his partner’s skin. _Partner_. After all this time, that still sent a thrill of satisfaction down his spine, still made him ache with want. Scott made the sweetest noises, chest heaving with effort as he arched his back, almost like he couldn’t help himself. He glimpsed Stiles through half-lidded eyes, mouth falling open as he sucked in breath after breath, panting for air that went down his throat hot. 

It settled in the pit of his stomach, spreading warmth across Scott’s nerves that sharpened every time he came down just right, feeling the heavy drag of Stiles’s cock through his body. He took himself in his hand, leaking greedily over his fingers, before Stiles joined him, calloused fingers curling around Scott’s as they moved together.

Slow and sweet and just sloppy enough to burn, every push, every pull left Scott’s head spinning, hungry for more but too tired to fight for what was his. But when Stiles cupped his jaw and pulled him into a kiss, he went willingly.

“You’re going to come for me.”

Even wrapped in a lazy haze, it was an order, and Scott shuddered in his partner’s arms, sucking his tongue into his mouth as he mewled his agreement.

Scott sat back, bracing his hands behind himself as he fucked down on Stiles’s cock with a slow roll of his hips. Dark eyes fluttered closed and sweat gathered at the ends of his black hair, dripping down to slide across his body in glistening trails. He was a work of art, imperfectly perfect, and Stiles twisted his hand around his friend’s achingly red cock to hear him beg.

Whispered curses slipped past Scott’s plush lips, breathtakingly obscene as his hips stuttered. The tight ring of Stiles’s fingers was slick and almost too rough against the oversensitive skin after teasing Scott to the edge again and again just to deny him.

Tired thighs trembled as Scott lifted his body to thrust into their hands and then back down with a wet smack as Stiles drove his own hips up to meet him. Scott always bounced so prettily on his dick and Stiles urged him faster with another sharp slap to his ass, his handprints bright red against his partner’s skin. Scott just gave a tired, breathless moan as the muscles in his arms corded, body held wire tight and ready to break.

But Stiles’s command was irresistible and his body was desperate to obey, release held just beyond his reach until he thought he was going to lose his mind with desperate, incoherent need. He shuddered, holding himself on shaking arms as he finally came with a low, guttural grunt. Cum spurted across Stiles’s sweat slicked skin, thick and hot as he wrung Scott dry with an expert hand.

He rode the aftershocks of his orgasm, baring down on Stiles hard enough to make him groan. It was so blindingly good, pleasure licking up his spine, threatening to leave Scott spent once it abated, but never got that far. All at once, his back hit the bed, and Scott gasped around a groan as Stiles spread his legs for him, putting him on wanton display. His eyes widened in comical surprise, mouth falling open in a wordless scream, but Stiles wasn’t done with him, not by a long shot. Scott groaned as the assassin took him apart, fucking into him with a single-minded determination, maybe too hard, maybe too rough, his hips stuttering to a beat he couldn’t keep as he chased his own wants, all his finesse long gone. All Scott could do was hold on, whimpering and whining for attention, the air punched out of him with each desperate thrust. 

“Stiles,” he breathed around an exhale, smacking his lips like he’d forgotten how they worked. “Stiles!”

He felt it when Stiles’s back trembled, starting at his waist and spreading up to his shoulders and down his thighs, and Scott gasped,  _gasped_ , before Stiles came in thick, filthy spurts, pounding deep into his body as Scott fell to the bed, surrendering everything. When Stiles pulled away, it spilled between his thighs, dripping down his taint into their soiled sheets, and Scott couldn’t find the strength to move.

Stiles found his mouth, and kissed him with lazy satisfaction as he dropped on top of Scott, a too warm blanket that was an uncomfortable mess. Scott never felt so alive.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Stiles laughed, but he sounded utterly pleased with himself. Scott kind of wanted to give him a gold star, too. Then he slipped two fingers into Scott’s slippery heat, and the spy writhed for him all over again. “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“Stiles, too much,” Scott rasped through clenched teeth, trembling as Stiles wrecked havoc where he was too raw, too sensitive. When he pulled away, Scott trembled like he wanted to come again, and his eyes turned glassy when Stiles smeared his cum over Scott’s lips.

Scott sucked his fingers clean before Stiles leaned over and licked his way into Scott’s mouth, sweet and careful, stealing the breath from his friend’s lungs. When he rolled back, Scott was gasping and Stiles couldn’t stop the smug grin. “You’re always so good for me.”

Scott gave a horse laugh, slapping his hand against the other man’s stomach to make him  _oomf_. “And you just like trouble.”

“I like you?”

“Mmmhmm.” Scott stretched back on the bed, hands above his head and shameless as he arched on the damp sheets. Stiles raised an eyebrow, willing his dick to get ready for a well-deserved round two, but Scott cut him off with a wave of his hand. “I think we both need a shower.”

Stiles whined, but Scott pinched his side and chased his friend from the bed. “Shower. Then I want breakfast. It’s your turn to get it.”

“I love it when you’re pushy.” Stiles smushed Scott down onto the bed with a laugh, stealing kisses and making the other man squirm before sauntering off to shower. He put an extra sway in his step to make sure Scott watched him the whole way.

A pillow smacked into Stiles from behind and he barely managed an indignant squawk before he was tackled by a very naked Scott, laughing as he dragged him into the bathroom.

The streets were busy in the mid-morning and Stiles ducked through the traffic. Local vendors set up shop selling fresh fruit and warm bread right out of the oven, and he paused to look things over. His Spanish was a little rusty, but he was able aggressively point at what he needed and the merchant woman smiled at the dumb American tourist before handing over a bag full of fresh mangos.

“Gracias.” He said as she laughed at his accent, and tucked the bag beneath his arm.

Coming to Peru in the middle of the summer meant a hot, sticky sort of vacation, but if they could spend the day at the beach, maybe they could catch a much needed breeze. Besides, if they were going to be playing tourist, it was nice to be here in the off season. Stiles slowly sauntered down the street, picking out a few ripe fruits and a fresh loaf of bread. If he could get his hands on some of the chilled fruit juice, Scott might really like to try a cremolada to cool him off.

That was the last thought Stiles had before something heavy cracked against his skull and the world spun sideways before going black.

When Stiles woke, it took him a moment to realize that the ringing in his ear wasn’t coming from inside it, but from outside the building. Or rather, the plane, Stiles thought glumly, as he took in the steady beat of a propeller and the metal walls of his prison. His arms were bound tight behind his back, and pants considerably lighter without his holster to burden him. Worst of all, his mangoes were gone. That was just a tragedy.

“Mr. Barrow, so good of you to join us.” A sneering, bored drawl broke him out of his reverie. Stiles hissed as his head was jerked back with a sharp tug in his messy hair, forcing him to stare up at beady-eyed bastard with a distinct scar above his lip. “I admit we thought you’d be out longer. You have a thicker head than we thought.”

Stiles almost forgot the aliases he and Scott had given at their hotel. He snarled at his captor with too many teeth. All he got was a laugh for his trouble.

“If this is the best the new - what is it? Argent-Hales? If this is all you have to offer, this is an embarrassment.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles curled his lip and was rewarded with a brain rattling blow across the face. And for fuck’s sake, they were  _The Pack._ Didn’t anyone get the memo?

“Senior Carlos Espinoza wasn’t pleased to have two foreigners poking into his business.” Scarface said with a cruel smile, tipping his prisoner’s face up to look at him. “I think we can convince you to talk.” The pilot set the controls to autopilot and joined the other two guards, opening the door at the back of the plane. Wind whipped through the plane with a roar and Stiles’s eyes watered with the rush. One of the guards knocked him to the ground and rolled him towards the door. “Talk or we’ll see just how far you fly with your wings clipped, Mr. Barrow.”

“Fine.” The word was poisonous and sharp. “I’ve got something to tell you: Babe?”

“You really go for the dramatics,  _darling._ ” One of the masked guards drawled as he flicked his wrists, metal claws catching in the light before he sliced through the ropes. “Carlos Espinoza, you got the name?”

“Got it.” Allison’s voice came through his earpiece clearly. “Good work. Now get out of there so we can catch this son of a bitch.”

“Workin’ on it, Ghost.” Stiles pulled himself to his feet and punched Scarface in the jaw hard enough to make his hand sting. “Ow ow ow, what the hell? Your face is made out of concrete?”

“El Lobo!” Scarface stumbled back and gestured wildly at the panicking guards. “Get out! Everyone out!”

“And Killjoy! No wait,  _Killshot,_  dammit!” Stiles snapped, spinning on his heel to slam his foot into Scarface’s gut and wishing he knew even less Spanish than he already did. His captive went down hard, oblivious to the assassin’s heated glower. “No one’s scared of Killshot. Can you believe it?”

“Little busy right now!” Scott hissed, parrying one of the guard’s punches, his mouth set in a thin line. The man had height, weight and reach on him, but he wasn’t the Wolf. It was no contest.

Scott punched his face in, sending his opponent stumbling backwards, disoriented and confused, before the plane lurched dangerously, falling too quickly as it fell into a nosedive. The spy nearly toppled over, grabbing along the side of the plane to keep himself steady. Stiles wasn’t as lucky. He soared past Scott and metal claws snagging at his gaudy Hawaiian shirt, tearing right through it but keeping him steady. Stiles slammed into the wall, hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

“Killshot!”

Scott was distracted. It was all their enemies needed to make their escape. The pilot dodged angry fists and furious grabs, the only one prepared for the abrupt descent. With an emergency parachute strapped across his back, he threw himself out of the plane, and Scarface wasn’t far behind him, his guard scrambling to find his own, even as he teetered like a drunk.

“We need some help here, Ghost!” Scott yelled to their partner and heard her frustrated sigh.

“I can get you an extraction, but you’re going to have to get out of there on your own. The team’s too far away.” The new co-leader of the Pack was apologetic, but the agents were on their own.

“Alpha!” Stiles waved his arm, dragging two parachute packs from where they’d been hooked to the wall and slung one across the floor of the plane to Scott. He made a dive for it, pulling the straps on and clipping everything in place. He let himself slide across the metal towards the assassin as the plane angled down.

“Thanks, bro. You got this?” He asked, helping Stiles with the last clasps.

“I got something.” Stiles wagged his eyebrows and helped himself to a handful of Scott’s butt, squeezing tight as he pulled the other man down into a kiss.

“Are you  _serious_  right now?” Allison’s voice cut in, annoyed. “You’re in a crashing plane and I can literally hear you making out. Will you two idiots just jump already?”

“Fiiiine.” Stiles let go reluctantly and readied himself to jump. “All set?”

“Way ahead of you, Killjoy!” The True Alpha whooped, launching himself into the air as Stiles scrambled out after him.

“It’s Kill _shot_  and you know it!” He yelled, chasing after his partner.

**Author's Note:**

> We hope you enjoyed our fic! 
> 
> You can find Dans's awesome fics [here](http://nevertrustastilesthing.tumblr.com/)
> 
> You can read Rune's stuff [Here](http://fightingforthepack.tumblr.com/) and find her on tumblr at [ Runicscribbles](http://runicscribbles.tumblr.com)


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